Bombadil sat in his smoke filled office while looking through his numbers sheets. There were only a few things left to handle before going forward with his moon shining operation and he knew that the time was right for the newest batch of brandy to hit the streets. Many of his competitors still had control of liquor market. The Durden gang recently moved in on the brothel Bombadil had a stake in, bringing his profit margins down to an uncomfortable percentage.

Bombadil put his papers away and lit a joint. Two phones sat on his desk. One red, the other black. The red phone was a direct line to Peptide, his boss, so that communication was always available. The black phone was purposed for the normal ingoing-outgoing calls that Bombadil made on a daily basis. He picked up black phone, puffing his joint as he dialed the number to a laundry business in up state New York. The general manager of the laundry picked up the phone. "Hey, this is Bomba. How's business?" Bombadil spoke as he snuffed the joint, placing it in the ashtray to save for later. The general manager that Bombadil was speaking to was quick and to the point saying, "So far we're up 17%. The new hotel opening up will certainly bring in some more money boss." "That's good. Tell Fred I need three of his trucks for a few days." "Right away. Anything else I can do for you or the family?" "No. Just do that for me. I'll be in touch," Bombadil said as he hung up the phone. Looking down, Bombadil opened a side drawer on his desk, revealing a chrome .45 caliber handgun and a bottle twenty-five year old scotch. Bombadil grabbed his handgun and tucked it away, equipping his overcoat on the way out of the door.

The building entrance was spotless. Bombadil's bodyguard was standing next to running car, door open with drink inside. Bombadil gets in the car and his bodyguard drives him away.

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There was small nightclub on 3rd avenue that Bombadil wanted to use to sell his moonshine. The current owner, a Capo of the Durden Gang by the name of Henry, had a bad habit of using his alcohol business to run gambling operations for some of the old hostile crew leaders that come to visit every now and again. Bombadil had his bodygaurd drop him off around the corner from the small nightclub. It was late, so no one was roaming the streets other than the usual club patrons. A quick stride down the sidewalk brought Bombadil to the entrance of the alleyway behind the nightclub. Sure enough, Henry_Durden was there, shooting craps with four other people. Bombadil stayed in the shadows, walking at the same pace as two other pedestrians that just happened to be passing through. The Capo from the Durden Gang let out a laugh after some dice had been rolled. Bomdadil ran up to Henry_Durden while Henry had his head tilted back in laughter and put three bullet through his face. Everyone, from the gamblers to the prostitutes, everyone hauled ass out of there.

Bombadil ran back to the street where his bodyguard pulled up and jumped into the moving car through the window. Bombadil was last seen speeding off around the corner.

"I want to thank you for coming here all the way from Tennessee. How has your experience been so far? Since arriving in New York," Bombadil asked as passed the old man, who sat across from at his desk, a drink of New York distilled brandy. "Well thank you for having me," the old man replies as takes a sip of the brandy,"Do ya'll use brewers yeast?" "No. We been using the bread yeast we get from the bakery we own." "Well I been runnin' liquor for 30 years....and I don't make it like-iss," the old man said as he sat his glass of brandy down on the desk. "So you got your own recipe?" Bombadil asked.

The old man leaned back in his chair,"Now I'll tell ya the things that I need from you to make this work, I'll get the rest." "That's fine. Talk to the fella outside there and he'll get you squared away with that," Bombadil replied as took another sip of his brandy. Bombadil sat his drink down before continuing,"About that bootlegging charge...with you and your cousin there." "Yeah," the old man said with excitement. "Lets just act like it never happened. Everyone else will," Bombadil said as he shook hands with the old man. On the way out of the door, the old man says to Bombadil, " Call me Virgil," and he continues on out of the building.

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With Henry_Durden out of the way and the trucks recently arriving from up state New York, Bombadil asked his assistant to make sure all the stuff on Old Man Virgil's grocery list was transported to the factory on 125th. While that was being taken care of, Bombadil went to City Hall to find out where the rights to the nightclub business goes. The documents he was able obtain, through a favor from a clerk at the DA's office, showed that power of attorney went to his son. Herny_Durden's son, Harold, was a Wise Guy in the Durden Gang who had run up some debt with the Triads. The Triads mostly keep to themselves but when you cross them, they give you the "cut". After some digging, Bombadil was able to find Harold_Durden's place of business, a run down coffee shop that served moldy cheese, and convinced him to sell his rights to the business. Really all Bombadil did, was write a number on a piece of napkin and slide it over to Harold. He signed over the deed to the building right away. He might have been on drugs, Bombadil did not know.

When Bombadil went to his newly acquired nightclub, sixteen employees were worried about keeping their jobs. After about five days of meetings, Bombadil did end up firing seven of the sixteen. He set up a payroll for the remaining employees and randomly picked an employee to be the regular manager. Bombadil randomly picked a person for the management position deliberately, to make an example of him when he screws up, but we'll get to that later. There was so much that needed to be done.

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Bombadil went back to his office. There was a chalk board there with places to pin sheets of paper to it. That was his drawing board. He wrote things he needed to do on that chalk board, like "1:Entertainment, 2:Quality Liquor, 3:Security, 4:Quality Staff, 5:Get Rid of Police." Bombadil worked out his plans through the night and finally slept when he saw the sun peak over the Manhattan skyline.

The lights inside of the warehouse shown over Bombadil's head, casting a shadow over face. All anyone could see was the cherry from his joint as he stood next to a pallet of potting soil. Bombadil watched as the workers he had hired loaded his trucks with bag of organic potting soil, getting ready to be taken back to New York.

A few days before, while at a brothel in the upper part of Manhattan, Bombadil over heard one of the patrons talking about a way to smuggle morphine out of Delaware without alerting Tyler_Durden, the Godfather of the Durden Gang. Bombadil was interested in getting in on that action and got in contact with this fellow the next day through a telegraph. The fellow from the brothel set up a meeting with some top soil merchants and Bombadil but sadly the unnamed fellow from the brothel met an early demise to due some bad debts with some capable Made Men. Bombadil knew one thing about the change fortunate, is that anything that stands in the way, becomes the way. Fortunate always favored the bold.

Seeing that his attempt to bring in some money through side venture failed, Bombadil decided to capitalize on the meeting without the unnamed fellow from the brothel. After some short talks, Bombadil and the top soil merchants worked out a deal help supply Bombadil's apple tree farming operation. Bombadil needed the apple trees to grow apples for the brandy he intended to produce. Old Man Virgil required a constant supply of apples in massive quanties and buying the apples from local suppliers didn't make any sense one looked at the numbers, especially over extended periods of time.

The workers finally finished loading the three trucks that Bombadil had brought to the warehouse in Newark with top soil.  The top soil merchants also had customers that were involved in marijuana growing operations in the Detroit. Bombadil created a mental note of that and paid the man for the top soil.

The small convoy of trucks took the payload of top soil to Ginger Mill Farms, a farm that Bombadil had just acquired through some business dealing with a corrupted federal agent. Things were being perpared for the long term but Bombadil had to get something going for the next few weeks. Old Man Virgil received enough ingredients to make 55 gallons of bootleg brandy and that amount is small in value compared to the long term. So Bombadil decided to make a large purchase from all the local produce markets and have the apples delivered to the factory on 125th street Manhattan.

Old Man Virgil had a huge vat of apple wine brewing in the factory on 125th. Bombadil loved visiting the place, it always smelled of good champagne. There were endless meetings with staff and newly hired personnel for the new club Bombadil was working on opening. He needed a break. Bombadil took a flight down to Cuba for the weekend. The casino's there were some of the best and they loved getting people drunk before 10am. On the way into Havana airspace, the pilot opened the cargo door in the back of the plane with the pull of lever.

16 units of heroin poured from the rear of the plane and landed in the ocean below. Bombadil acted as if he saw nothing and feigned sleep. The plane landed without trouble and Bombadil got into the small toy car that was waiting for him. Some of the people in this beautiful country still preferred to travel by horse and he thought is was a pleasant escape from the life he had chosen to lead. The Hotel that the driver dropped Bombadil off at was luxurious, owned by various mafia families around the country. He enjoyed his three day vacation with some regret, having lost big money in off-shore accounts from the dice games at the casino.

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Back in New York, trouble was brewing. The new crew leaders in Philly had pushed back on the Durden Gang, so the Durden Capos decided to try for a move on Manhattan. Peptide's Left Hand Man, MekhiMusso, caught wind of this and called up Bombadil on the emergency line in the hotel in Havana. Needless to say, Bombadil got on a plane immediately, having heard that Peptide had already blown up one of the Durden Bosses in a car bomb wack. Bombadil knew that the hit on the Durden Boss would stir up a lot anger with TylerDurden.

Manhattan was being kept under organized control when Bombadil arrived. Some Durdens were allowed to settled for on small amount of time before getting hit unexpectedly by the wise guys who want to make a name for themselves. Bombadil went to the Lucky Adhesion Head Quarters to check up with the Don about what the next move was on the annoyance that plagued the district. The Durdens were causing trouble in Manhattan, then trouble found them.

In the heart of lower Manhattan, Bombadil sat a table drinking coffee. He looked over some rather large rendering of potential signage for his new club he was opening. The New York Palace was the name of his small bootlegging operation. Old Man Virgil kept the charred oak barrels full of well brewed apple brandy giving the locals in New York a nice taste of the fine spirits.

Bombadil visited the neighborhoods frequently, giving out free samples of the new brandy to those who met the age requirements. He needed to see what the moonshine did to the people, what effect the substance would have. It seemed well received among the regulars, having drawn some patrons to the bar area that Bombadil keeps open.

The style of the sign was sleek but had simple coloring. The designer of the new club sign, an educated woman by the name of Francielle, had stepped out for a bit and left Bombadil to examine some of the work already down at the consulting office. Lower Manhattan was always busy that time of day, people making deliveries, others running to get the bosses some lunch, everybody had something to do. As he drank his coffee, Bombadil's bodyguard notified him that there was an agent with the FBN at his office. Bombadil's office was at the upper part of Manhattan, no sense in wasting time driving all the way uptown, Bombadil sent a messenger to the agent. His message was for the agent to meet Bombadil at the pizzeria on 8th street, there they could talk about keeping the local law enforcement off the club detail and focus on the Durden issue that recently hit the city. Bombadil gathered his things and went to the pizzeria to meet the corrupted agent.

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The pizzeria was cleared at the request of Bombadil, he wanted to make sure this type of business was handled in private and without the listening ears of those who would interfere in Bombadil's club business. The corrupted agent was willing to ease the pressure from the Palace but Bombadil had to take a payload of Cash to Panama. The corrupted agent made a major drug bust but still wanted to go through with the deal. Bombadil didnt see a problem with it. The FBN only wanted the Cocaine that the money was going to pay for, so Bombadil went to his office and called up a couple of his best hitters. He had a plan that would make some good money for the family.